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I hope more than expect that she’ll release me and return to the house with my family. Becca would have. Funny how I remember the way her mind worked more than the woman herself. But Nia… I already know she’ll make a completely different choice.
“It’s time we cut through the crap and have some straight conversation.” She tries to turn me to face her.
I shrug off her touch, refusing to budge.
“Leave it,” I tell her. Hell, I’m warning her. If she treads here, as agitated as my churning gut and boiling blood seem, I don’t know what I’ll do.
“No. Becca may have let you brood. Maybe her apathy didn’t bother you. Maybe you were even grateful. I’m sorry she’s gone, and I’m glad you want to be here with me. But there’s no way I’m leaving you alone now. And there’s no way I will believe for one minute that you aren’t hurting.” When I still don’t reply, Nia huffs and marches around my unmoving form to plant herself in front of me. “You lost almost everything that meant something to you in a single afternoon. Grieving doesn’t make you weak. You cared for Becca. You wanted your baby. Of course your first holiday without them is going to be difficult. Of course seeing a child born on the very day yours should have been is a shock.”
How did she anticipate everything that would impact me when I didn’t see those blows coming until they’d sucker-punched me?
I lick my suddenly dry lips and force myself to look at her. “It’s illogical.”
“It’s normal,” she argues. Her passion is persuasive, compelling, especially when she gives me a little shake. “There isn’t a single person here tonight who doesn’t feel your ache and doesn’t wish they could make it better for you. It’s okay if you weren’t ready to hold the baby. No one blames you.”
For some reason, her speech stirs up my anger. “They all stared, waiting, wondering, obviously thinking I’m a train wreck. I don’t want their pity. I don’t need yours, either.”
“I don’t pity you,” she murmurs. “I love you. That means I’m concerned about you. I’m in your corner. I’m willing to listen whenever you want to talk. I’m here for you.”
As I blow out a breath, I try again to tamp down my anger. I can’t be mad at Nia when she’s only trying to help. In fact, I should be grateful she even cares about this wretched mood of mine. But her words illuminate parts of my past I wish I could keep dark.
If Becca loved me too, why wasn’t she ever willing to hear me when I was troubled? I excused her disinterest in my frustration during Stratus’s early days as her lack of understanding about my business. Since she and I rarely fought about our personal life, I assumed she either walked away or acquiesced before disagreements got truly heated because she loathed conflict. Looking back, I wonder why she never fought for herself. For me. For us.
Did she ever really care at all? Or was I merely the protective barrier between her and the rest of the world?
“Evan?”
Nia is still waiting. She’s done nothing but try to help. Whatever is plaguing my mood isn’t something I can take out on her.
“It was a shock,” I admit in something just above a whisper since I can’t seem to find the rest of my voice. “I wasn’t ready to hear that Ranger had been born the same day my son or daughter should have been.”
“I know. But if things work out between us, we can have children.”
“I don’t want them.”
“You say that now. The pain of your loss is still too fresh, so you’re not ready to take a chance yet—”
“I doubt I’ll ever be ready. It’s not worth the risk.”
“That’s your grief talking.”
Normally, I would have refuted her, told her that was my logic asserting itself. This time, I pause. Examine. I frown. Is she right?
“Maybe. But I don’t think I’ll change my mind, Nia.”
And I worry about where that leaves us…and our future.
Chapter Eleven
Seattle, Washington
Saturday, November 25
* * *
By mutual agreement, we decided on Friday morning to head back to Seattle, rather than staying in Maui for another nine days. My siblings and their spouses were sorry to see us cut our visit short, but no one pressed us to stay, as if they understood that Nia and I need the time to figure out our next steps.
We arrived home to rain that hasn’t let up since we landed. As we settle into the car, not many words pass between us. Nia isn’t silent out of anger. Neither am I. It feels more like we simply don’t know what to say.
